Take a Sad Song and Make It Better
by darthsydious
Summary: During the final battle in Manhattan, Darcy waits it out in a panic room in Stark Towers. While she sits, she reflects on her relationship with Coulson. Just a two part story.
1. Chapter 1

_From my own headcanon. Takes place during the final battle in Avengers. Darcy is Coulson's PA, and she was also raised by him. Just to explain why a SHIELD agent showed up and started helping her out: Darcy's father was a SHIELD agent, he died before he learned that Darcy's mom was pregnant. SHIELD keeps tabs on all of the agents families, and when fishy things start showing up at the Lewis household, Coulson decides to check it out and he starts helping Darcy, so that's how they know each other. I don't want people reviewing "WHY is random shield agent just popping out of nowhere to help this random kid?" there's a backstory, but it'll take to long and doesn't have a LOT to do with this particular story. But that's how Coulson knew about Darcy. Enjoy! - darthsydious_

* * *

Darcy sat in one of the panic rooms in Stark Tower. JARVIS is steadily keeping her up to date on what's going on. Clutching her taser, she huddled in the corner, somewhat angry that she'd been tossed in here by some unnamed agent.

"I'm trained, I can help!" she insisted, nameless Agent she didn't recognize only shook his head.

"Coulson's orders."

"I'm his PA, the hell-" the door cut her off midsentence. Any pounding, swearing and threatening to tase the first person to open the door fell on deaf ears. It wasn't until a tremor shook the building that Darcy wondered if she'd been too hasty. Sure, she'd been trained to kick some serious butt, she'd put down a few baddies in her time as Agent Coulson's PA. She'd seen some downright bizarre junk. But Stark Tower aka the newest, shiniest, safest building in New York should NOT shake the way it was.

"JARVIS, talk to me," she said and the computer beeped in response, quickly filling her in on what was happening. She tapped her phone, plugging in the pass code. Punching in Coulson's number she waited. "Figures, he's not picking up," she murmured. "Hey jerkface, next time you want me out of the way, come put me in a safe room yourself, instead of having nameless butthole number twelve shove me in here like a six year old. And don't forget you have a meeting at 1:15 on Thursday," she paused. "Be careful out there." and hung up, almost picturing Coulson's face when he'd check his messages. Darcy was proud of the fact that she was one of the few people who could break the seemingly impenetrable mask that Phil Coulson always seemed to wear. She'd known him almost her whole life, since she was eight, actually. He'd just…been there all of a sudden.

_She had been waiting for her mom to pick her up, which she didn't really expect, because her mom never followed through. Her mom was always hung over, or going out or too busy for Darcy. She'd learned to let it not bother her. Some kids had parents that loved them and took care of them and made them cookies and took them to Chucky Cheese for their birthdays. Other kids (Darcy hadn't met them yet) had mom's like Darcy's. They partied all the time and didn't give a rat's butt about what their kids did, as long as they did it quietly, as long as they didn't cry, as long as they would "For GOD'S SAKE shut the hell up with that cello and go watch tv." You know that kid Matilda? Darcy was like her. Only you know, without telekinesis. _

_The day Phil showed up at her school, she clutched her cello case, her teacher was actually letting her take it home to practice. The instrument was bigger than she was, and in its case it was massive. The unmarked car sat in the designated pick-up area; a man in a suit and sunglasses was waiting there. _

"_Darcy Lewis." It wasn't a question. He knew who she was. She paused, squinting. She needed new glasses, but her mother kept forgetting to make an appointment. Her prescription was old, so she had to squint hard at the person, trying to see their face. _

"_I don't talk to strangers," she said, her small voice had confidence in it as she started down the sidewalk. _

"_Your mother called me to pick you up," Darcy stopped and frowned. _

"_Mom doesn't spend time with rich people," he almost smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching. _

"_What makes you think I'm rich?" She set her cello down with a 'thunk'._

"_Seriously? Your suit is measured to fit you, even with my bad eyes I can tell that, your car is almost new, from a company that isn't in the tri-state area, washed and waxed frequently, and its license plate isn't from this state. It's not rented, and your shoes are shiny." The man quirked an eyebrow. _

"_My shoes are shiny?"_

"_Nobody in Nebraska polishes their shoes," she said. "Everyone has farm boots or sneakers," _

"_You're very perceptive," he commented. "At any rate, I've been sent to pick you up, so let's go. There's room in the trunk for your cello." He opened the door for her, and she studied him carefully. A sudden thought flashed through her eight-year-old brain that he might be a kidnapper. But she squashed that down. Kidnappers weren't this open, they didn't have fancy cars, and they certainly didn't call kids by their first and last names._

"_Are you from the FBI?" she asked, unmoving. _

"_No, but I work for a company like it," _

"_Cool!" was the response that surprised Coulson. His eyebrows lifted from behind the sunglasses. "So you're like James Bond, only…less awesome." His brow furrowed. _

"_Less awesome?"_

"_Yeah, he's English, and he has someone to give him gadgets and stuff. My glasses aren't too good but I'm pretty sure you aren't the type to carry exploding pens." _

_He picked her up every day from school from then on. One day, she was waiting outside of school and he was late. She tried not to care. He was an Agent for some secret organization, that was true enough (he never denied it, so Darcy was convinced). She rubbed her swollen eyes behind her glasses. Her mom's new boyfriend was a jerk. He hit her mother, and as little as she had in common with her mother, Darcy knew no one deserved to be beat up for burning dinner. So she kicked him, thinking she could at least lock herself in the bathroom once she got away. The only problem was she didn't get away. He'd caught her by the arm, swinging her around to face him. He'd hit her so hard her glasses bent, she heard her mother screaming at him to stop, and she remembered seeing a hand coming at her face. When she came to, she was in her room; her mother had a cold pack in her hand. _

"_Where's Phil?" she asked softly. Her mother didn't respond, she tried to put the ice pack on her face, but Darcy pushed her away, her fingers swollen. "I want Phil!"_

"_I'm sorry, Darcy," was all her mother said. She stared at her mom, her heart dropped. For a moment, she thought her mother meant Phil was dead. But her mother shook her head. "You'll see him tomorrow."_

"_Why don't you break up with Rick?" she asked angrily, batting her mother's hand away again. _

"_I can't." _

"_Yes you can!" _

"_It isn't that simple," her mother said. "Keep the ice on your face tonight," _

"_Where is he?" her mother was quiet._

"_He went out; he'll be back later," _

_For the first time in her life, Darcy watched her mother take a chair and sit by her doorway. She was keeping watch. Rick must have been really mad at her then. Darcy had fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes, her door was shut, but she could hear her mother and Rick arguing. He was angry at Darcy, he wanted to send her away.  
"I would if I could, I never planned on her! But she's only eight, so I'm trying to be responsible."_

"_S*** Mary, get her a foster home or something, I told you-"_

"_Rick please-" her mothers' voice was cut off by the noise of scuffling. Quietly, Darcy swallowed her tears, her throat ached. Sliding out from underneath her covers, she went to her closet, taking down her favorite coat. She rolled it up, stuffing it in her school backpack. She took all her clean underwear and socks out of her drawers, and as many changes of clothes she could fit into the bag. Phil would help her. He must. _

_The next day she went to school her backpack and cello case heavier than usual. Her mother and Rick weren't awake when she left, and that was how she wanted it. After school, she waited for Phil. And waited. And waited. Two hours after 8__th__ period, the unmarked car turned the corner, and Darcy looked up, her heart leaping. Phil climbed out, _

"_Sorry I'm late I-" he stopped short. He was staring at her, and Darcy felt shame welling up inside her, feeling her cheeks burning. She looked at her shoes, at anything but Phil. He knelt down, tilting her chin up. "Let me see," he said gently. She pulled her glasses off, blinking. Carefully, he studied her. He looked angry, that was the first time Darcy saw him break that mask. He always wore sunglasses, and sometimes she could make him smile. But now his Aviators were in his pocket, and the white-hot rage in his eyes made her tremble.  
"It's nothing," she murmured, "It was my fault I got hit-" suddenly the anger in his eyes was gone, and there was only Phil, warm and caring. His hands curled around her arms, squeezing gently.  
"Don't you ever say that again," he said. "Do you hear me, Darcy Lewis? You don't ever let someone hit you, and you don't ever say it was your fault." And he hugged her. Darcy had never been hugged before in her life. For a moment, she didn't know what to do. A hug was something people who loved each other did. She saw it on tv and in movies. It was everything she'd hoped it would be. It was all warmth and happiness, it was protection and love. She felt secure for the first time in her life. Her arms found their way around Phil's neck and she burst into tears. Eight years old and sobbing. Despite all this, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. "Barton, give a hand," he said. Darcy realized now someone else was in the car. Through blurry eyes she watched the man she didn't recognize, and then a woman with curly red hair step out of the car. The one called Barton picked up her cello case and backpack, the woman waited by the car, looking around. Coulson put her in the backseat, patting her forehead. _

"_You're gonna be ok," he said quietly. _

"_She coming with us?" Barton asked, and Phil nodded. "Natasha," he called and the redhead climbed in. Darcy laid down on her side already buckled in. Curling into a ball, she shut her tired eyes. She didn't want to go home._

"_Sir?" she heard Barton say, she heard Phil lean over from the driver's seat. She didn't know they were looking in her backpack full of extra clothes. They were speaking quietly now, Natasha spoke Russian, and the others spoke it too. She felt the car turn left, then right, then make two more lefts. The car stopped, and Darcy still didn't move. She didn't want to look up at her house, didn't want to feel the bile in her throat that came up almost every day when she arrived. But she must. Slowly, she sat up; deciding she could run away that night, after Rick and her mother went to bed. She reached for her buckle, but was stopped. _

"_You stay here kiddo," Barton said, "Phil and Tasha want to go in first," _

"_Is that ok?" Phil asked, Natasha was already out of the car. Darcy decided it wouldn't matter what she said, Natasha would probably go in whether she liked it or not. Slowly, Darcy nodded. Phil checked his side, and numbly Darcy wondered what for. Barton sat in the front seat, Darcy in the back. For a while they sat, listening to the rain drum on the roof. Barton cussed, then turned around, remembering she was in the car_

"_Oh shoot, you're- dang, sorry." He muttered, "Shouldn't cuss," _

"_I've heard worse," she said. His face was serious then._

"_I bet you have," he rifled through the glove compartment, "You hungry? Phil always has snacks somewhere- ah!" he handed her a package. "You want a Twinkie?" Darcy sat up almost immediately. Her favorite snack in the entire world was Hostess Twinkies. She ripped the plastic open, biting off a mouthful. "Hey that's a cool beanie." He said. She reached her bruised fingers up, touching her knitted hat, smiling a little. Still, she watched her house, wondering what was happening. Suddenly, there was shouting, Rick's voice drifted out the window, cussing and swearing and threatening, she heard her name shouted too. _

"_What did she tell you? I will kill her, I will kill that little-" before she could hear anything else, Barton was in the backseat, covering her ears. She didn't realize she was shaking, her Twinkie dropped to the floor. She twisted and turned her head, trying to see the house again. _

"_No," Barton said firmly. He pressed her hear against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat. His scarred hands combed her dark hair. His heart muffled everything else. For the second time in her life she was being held. Suddenly the car doors were open, and Phil and Natasha were getting in. Darcy sat up and Barton let her. She looked out the window; her mother was in the doorway, hugging herself. Before she could even wonder what was going on, the car pulled away. Darcy didn't know where they were going, but it was away, and she felt her heart leap. _

"_Where are we going?" she asked finally. _

"_New York," Phil said, glancing up at her reflection in the rearview mirror. _

"_Oh," she sat back, watching the traffic light blink from red to green. "Why?" _

"_That's where we're going to live," Phil said. "I'm going to take care of you now." That was all. Darcy would find out much later that her father was a colleague of Coulson's, that he'd been killed in action before he even knew about Darcy._

"Miss Lewis, there is an incoming message for you," JARVIS voice startled her from her reverie. Getting to her feet, she hit the comm.

"Hey Beanie," it was Barton  
"Clint!" she gasped, "Holy crap, where are you? Are you ok? Is Nat ok?"

"We're fine, we're all fine, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm in the panic room, JARVIS is waiting for the all clear."

"It's gonna be a while, a lot of red tape, you'll be out by dinner time," he said. His voice was tired.

"Sweetness. Hey put Phil on. I've got a bone to pick with him, if I can't yell at him to his face, I can at least cuss him out over the phone," she said, mock-serious. The other end of the line was quiet for a while. Too long. "Clint?" she could hear him sigh as if someone pushed all the air out of him.  
"He's uh…Darcy he's…"

"Clint Barton you tell me where Phil is," she said, feeling her throat swell. She couldn't breathe.

"Darcy…he's um…he's gone, Phil's gone."

Clint could hear her on the other end, fighting to speak through her tears.

"It's not fair!" she screamed into the receiver, "That's a lie, Clint Barton, you- you put him on the phone right now or I'm going to hit the crap out of you-"

"Darcy!" he barked, the others looked up from their plates; the shawarma joint was empty save for the staff. Clint got up, trying to move away from the others. "I'm sorry Darcy," he was in the corner, wiping his eyes as she sobbed over the receiver. "He tried; he was…he was- Darcy-girl I'm coming. Darcy wait there, don't- I'm coming to get you," he hung up the phone, casting one glance at the rest of them. Natasha was already on her feet, her usually cool demeanor was gone, worry overtaking her features. "I gotta go," Clint said.

The others followed the two master assassins, picking through the rubble, trying to find the most direct route.

They got to Stark Tower, assessing the damage quickly, which was minimal.

"Hey, dummy, talk to me, where's Darcy?" armor shedding as Tony strode across the floor.

"Miss Lewis is in safe room number fifteen on the subfloor."

"Great, override safety, on my signal," the group waited in the hallway as Tony punched in a code, the door slid open. Inside, Darcy was curled on her side, hugging her knees to her chest. Clint stepped over the mess, ignoring the pain in his arms and shoulders. In fact he hurt all over. But seeing Darcy, he felt his chest begin to ache. Deep and familiar, he'd felt like that when he'd first seen her. Eight years old her face a mask of bruises, trying to hide behind glasses too big for her face.

"Hey Beanie," he said softly. She looked up at him, not moving. Carefully, he sat down, waiting for her to initiate contact. Darcy had not been held or touched or cuddled or kissed until she was eight. That does things to a person. She always accepted physical contact, but right now, Barton waited. Finally, when she wouldn't move, he reached for her hand and she took it, not looking at him. "Let's get you out of here,"

"No," she said softly. The group in the hall was quiet, listening. "In here…Phil's still alive…if I step outside, it's real, and he'll be gone,"

Clint blinked back tears. He picked her up, pulling her onto his lap like he used to. The others stood in the doorway now. Natasha stepped through, sitting down by Darcy and Clint. She looked at the others and slowly, they all ambled in. Darcy watched them all find a place, Bruce Banner took the desk chair, and Tony stood in the corner, fiddling with a screwdriver. Thor stood, looming in the doorway, and she wondered why he hadn't gone looking for Jane. Finally, her eyes rested on Steve. Her eyes wet and swollen, she stared at him. He looked at his feet, uncomfortable.

"You're Captain America," she said quietly.

"Yes Ma'am." He nodded.

"Phil loves your comics," she said. She heard Natasha shift beside them. Steve looked at Darcy now. "I just found him a couple rare cards; maybe you can sign them for him." Bruce put his head in his hands, crying softly. Steve blinked, feeling hot tears roll down his face.

"I think I could spare a few minutes," he choked out.

They sat in the panic room for a long time. They didn't talk or try to. Talking was too difficult. It was Darcy who got up first. Steve saw and gave her hand, helping her up. Clint and Nat followed.

"I'm gonna get some food," she said, looking back at the group, "Are you guys hungry?" they all looked at each other, and then back at the young woman.

"Oh Hell, I can eat again," Tony said. She nodded; glad she had something to do. She stopped at the doorway though, remembering what she'd said earlier. Outside the door was real life again. Outside the door, Phil was dead, and he was never coming back. Tony saw her hesitating, and he went to stand beside her. He put his arm around Darcy, squeezing.

"We're all with you kiddo," he said. She took a deep breath, stepping over the threshold.


	2. Chapter 2

_Heh. Sorry. I couldn't leave it, and most of this was already written soooo...yeah. Second and final part of this fic. Enjoy! - darthsydious_

* * *

**One week later**

At three AM, Darcy heard her phone beep. She sat up, frowning at it. It only beeped like that when Phil called. She looked at the number scrolling across the screen. Someone was being a dick and she was gonna make sure they knew it. Swiping her finger across the front, she put it to her ear.

"Whoever this is better just cut it the-"

"Agent Lewis, there is a car waiting for you downstairs, get dressed."

"Director Fury?" she asked, she looked at her phone.

"Hurry," was all he said before he hung up.

Creeping downstairs, she slipped out the front, where an unmarked car was waiting for her. Nick Fury stood outside.

"What's going on?"

"We need your help." He opened the door, waiting for her to step inside.

"Where are we going?" she asked, once he'd buckled in.

"You'll find out,"

They drove for a long time, heading over the Brooklyn Bridge. When they finally stopped, an agent approached the car, opening her door. She was ushered to a private jet. They were going to New Mexico was all he would tell her.

"Why-" she began but Fury just gave her a look. "What about the others?" she asked.

"They've been notified you're on assignment," he said. She was quiet.  
"_Am_ I on an assignment?"

"Not quite," Fury replied. "This is more a family emergency,"

"What-" she shook her head, blinking. "I don't understand."

"Let me tell you this then," Fury said. "Until I say otherwise, you don't answer your phone; you don't dial out on your phone. You are on media lockdown. Your security level clearance is going up as well,"

"Four?" she asked brightly.

"Seven," Fury replied. "As such, this case is being handled quietly."

"What about Clint, and Natasha they're family-"

"Agent Lewis, for the safety of this mission, you'll do as I say, no outgoing or incoming calls unless they are from me, is that understood?" she gulped,

"Yes sir."

He wouldn't answer any more questions, and four hours and one minute later, the plane was landing, and the stairs let down. In NYC it would be dawn already, the sun would be up. Steve would be making breakfast, getting everyone up in time for work. In New Mexico, they were two hours behind, and it was only just five AM. Darcy yawned hugely, eyeing the Starbucks in the tiny airport.

"No time," Fury took her arm, dragging her away.

"But…coffee…" she complained. He ignored her, hurrying her along as fast as her tired body would allow. Through the almost empty streets of Puente Antiguo, they drove. Darcy realized where they were headed.

"Why…are we going to the hospital?" she asked. "Is Jane back in New Mexico? Is she ok?!" Once again her questions were met with a glare from Fury's good eye.

Yet another agent opened the door for her. She climbed out, rounding the car to where Fury sat, clearly he wasn't coming. "Director Fury, what is going on?" he handed her a tablet.

"Just follow the agents, read this after you get to where they bring you, it'll fill you in, not before, mind."

"I suppose it's programmed not to open for a specific amount of time so I can't peek," Darcy said.

"Bingo. Here's your new clearance badge," she took it, handing him her old one. He gave it to the Agent now occupying the passenger seat that scanned code, deactivating it. "Have a good mission," He rolled the window back up and drove away. Darcy turned to the face the hospital. Several agents surrounded her, looking around, before guiding her around the back entrance, taking the staff elevator. She had no idea where she was going, who they were taking her to see. Maybe Thor was back from Asgard. The latest scuttlebutt was that his brother Loki had been under some kind of hypnosis, forcing him to attack Earth. Loki was to be banished from Asgard for previous crimes, and Thor was supposed to look after him. Darcy did hope that was the case. Maybe that's all this was. She was almost sure that's what it was; she'd be Thor's minder until Jane got back from Tromsø. That would be the only logical explanation for her sudden boost in security. Nobody but the Avengers and those working directly with them got a level seven clearance. She thought fleetingly of Phil then.

She was led down an empty hallway, mostly dark as it was still long before breakfast. Her stomach rumbled at the thought. Maybe the big guy would be hungry too, and then she nearly snorted. Thor was always hungry. Maybe they could grab a bite at the diner before hitting the road. They stopped at the end of the hallway, two more agents stood on guard.

"Agent Lewis, I presume," the doctor held out his hand. She recognized him from the SHIELD files. Showing her badge, she nodded for them to open the door, securing it behind her. The Doctor was right behind her, flicking the lights on, there was a heart monitor beeping steadily. Was Thor hurt? Oh geeze, Jane was gonna lose it when she got back. Darcy steeled herself and rounded the corner,

"Hey Big Guy-" she stopped short, her file and bag hitting the floor.

Darcy couldn't find her breath for a moment, trying to take in the sight of a man who should have been dead. Phil was pale, tubes hooked up into his arms, wires to the heart monitor poke out from the top of his pajamas. But he was there. A muffled voice beside her made her realize the Doctor was talking, filling her in on his condition.

"We expect him to wake up any day now," she heard him say. He handed her Phil's chart, apparently finished speaking. Darcy nodded, absently. "I'll leave you to him," he said, "Call if you need anything."

"My cello," she said suddenly, the doctor was almost to the door. "Have my cello sent from Stark Tower. I need it." It was an order. The doctor nodded, making a note of it.

"It should be here no later than tonight," he replied and shut the door behind him.

Darcy went slowly to the bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress. She studied him, his pyjamas were unbuttoned a little, and she could see bandages over his chest. Sniffling, she pushed the cotton aside, seeing the snowy white linens, taped to him as if he'd fall apart if the plaster wasn't holding him together. Tears rolled down her cheeks, she felt herself falling forward, resting her ear against his chest to listen to his heart. There it was, slow and steady. He wasn't dead. Phil Coulson, the man who had raised her, saved her, been the first human being to ever hold her, _was not dead_. She found herself being just a little bit selfish in thinking that she was glad she was here with Coulson and not the others. For so long it had been just the two of them. As mind-boggling as it was to learn Coulson was dead, it was twice as shocking to find out he wasn't. Emotions welled up inside her and she didn't know whether to be angry at him or not. He should have taken her along on the mission. She kicked her shoes off, careful of his bandages and the seemingly endless wires and tubes that protruded from his person. She laid her head against his shoulder and watched him sleep. She combed his hair as he slept,

"So this is where you've been hiding," she sniffled, chewing on her bottom lip. "I missed you." In a while the sun would be up and she would have to be a professional agent of SHIELD again, filling out paperwork and reading up on her mission. For now it was good just to look at Phil and listen to him breathing.

Darcy spent the day looking over her mission folder. Basically, Coulson needed someone to look after him until he could get back on his feet. Until he was fit for duty, he'd need physical therapy, he'd need lots of painkillers, he'd need to _wake up_. Darcy watched him while he slept, he was dreaming, clearly. His brow would furrow, and then relax, he'd talk sometimes, and nothing more than phrases, most of it she didn't understand. He said her name sometimes. She'd take his hand, telling him she was there. He didn't seem to hear her though, he wasn't aware of anything; at least that's what the doctor said. Darcy refused to believe it. As soon as her cello arrived, she took the corner chair, dragging it over to Phil's bedside. Carefully, she took the instrument from its case, tuning it, rosining the bow, making sure the stand was in place. She started off playing her favorite classical pieces. When she was done with those, she started on the rest of her repertoire. She loved playing songs that you wouldn't expect someone to play on the cello. Her favorite was The Beatles "Hey Jude". It was Phil's favorite song by the group, and it was the first song she learned to play. The cello was the first stable thing in her life. Before Phil took her away from her mom, it was the _only_ stable thing in her life. She played to escape. When Phil took her to New York, she continued her lessons. She smiled to herself as she played, remembering when he'd come back from a particularly rough mission when she was ten.

_His suit was dirty, he was cut up and he lay almost boneless on the couch. For a moment, when he'd come in the apartment, she thought he was drunk. Sometimes her mother had come home drunk. He didn't smell like alcohol though. He opened his eyes to see her leaning over him._

"_I'm ok," he promised. "Just finished my last mission."_

"_You're not working anymore?" _

"_No, I mean I won't have any more field work for a long time, not until you're older I don't want to be gone all the time, and you can't keep going over to Peggy's house."_

"_I like Miss Peggy." _

"_I know you do, but she's got her own family to look after, and you're my family, so I've got to look after you." Darcy didn't say anything, but she her heart skip a beat at 'family'. Two years after Phil took her away and it was still such a foreign word to her._

"_So what are you going to do?" she asked._

"_Deskwork," he replied. Darcy knew Phil hated paperwork. He'd sit up for hours and hours reading stacks of it, signing things and filling out forms. _

"_Why?" she asked._

"_Because it means I'll get to come home every day and see you," he said. "I won't be able to pick you up from school, but I'll get to see you off in the morning and be home in time for supper and homework," Darcy was quiet. Coulson often took these moments of silence to mean she understood but didn't know how to respond, or didn't wish to. _

"_Your face is dirty," she said and got up. Phil shut his eyes, listening as she let the water run. She came back with a warm washcloth, wiping his face off. Ash streaked across his forehead, his left cheek was bruised, and there was a cut by his ear._

"_Thanks Darcy," he said, taking the cloth from her. "Feels better already,"  
"Oh I almost forgot!" she gave him the cloth and ran to her room. A moment later she appeared, dragging her cello out. He was sitting up when she returned._

"_Whatcha got there?"_

"_A new song to make you better," she said, setting up her instrument. _

"_I could use it," he said with a tired smile. She paused.  
"Are you too tired? I'll play it tomorrow, when you feel better,"_

"_I want to hear you play now," he said_

"_You're tired," she began_

"_I'm never too tired for you." He said, so she took her bow. She knew his favorite song was "Hey Jude", and she'd been practicing. As soon as she started playing, he smiled. Darcy learned quite early on that Phil was all business except when she was around and when they were home. Their relationship was simple really. He was her legal guardian until she came of age. But it was better than that because…well, Darcy still hadn't figured that out yet. He wasn't like a parent. Not like her real parents anyway. Her real dad was long gone. Darcy's mom had felt obligated to keep her, even though she was a really piss-poor parent. But Phil was cool. He was fun, he was strict sometimes, but that was ok, because he was there every single day to pick her up from school and help her with her homework and make her fluffernutter sandwiches. Or if he couldn't come, Clint Barton or Natasha Romanov would walk her from school and hang out with her or she'd stay with Miss Peggy, one of Phil's co-workers. Every morning Phil made breakfast, he packed her lunches, (actual food too, not just a lunchable) and he made dinner, actual dinner that didn't require microwaving on high for twelve minutes and poking holes in the saran wrap._

_She reached the chorus and started singing along quietly, more to herself than anything. His face was shining at her, he started singing along with her, she grew a little bolder in her playing, rocking along with the music. By the time she got to the "Nanananas" they were singing as loud as they could, Darcy rocking out the "Judy-Judy-Judy-Judy" bits as loud as her little voice would let her. When she finished he grinned, enveloping her in a tight hug. _

Two weeks passed since she'd arrived in Puente Antiguo. Every day, after breakfast, lunch and dinner, in between doing paperwork, Darcy played the cello at Phil's bedside. She never played "Hey Jude" until night time, sort of her closing number before stretching out on the little couch where she slept. She'd been offered the keys to Jane's building at the end of town, but Darcy preferred to stay with Phil. If he woke up, she wanted to be there. It was the start of week three, the end of a very, very long day that Darcy rosined her bow.

"Just our song tonight, Phil, and then I gotta hit the hay, Fury's cranking the paperwork my way," she snorted. Testing the strings, she poised her bow and began, this time singing along:

"_Hey Jude, don't make it bad, _

_Take a sad song, and make it better._

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better._

_Hey Jude, don't be afraid, you were_

_Made to go out and get her. The minute_

_You let her under your skin then you begin_

_To make it better. _

_And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. _

_Don't carry the world upon your shoulders For well you know_

_That it's the fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder!_

_Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na,_

_Hey Jude, don't let me down, you have found her_

_Now go and get her, remember to let her into _

_Your heart, then you can start to make it better. _

In his head, Phil could hear music. He could hear voices, was this a memory? He'd been dreaming so many things lately. Darcy had been frequent in all of them. Speaking to him quite frankly about her day, what work Fury had given her. Now he distinctly heard a cello. Her cello. It played his favorite song, and Darcy was singing along with it. Darcy. A pinprick of light seemed to shine in the dark of his mind. Little Darcy all grown up. His Darcy. Phil Coulson never had a family of his own. Not his own blood at any rate. Darcy was as good as, in his opinion. He remembered when he first took her to New York City. Her wide eyes stared in awe at the skyscrapers, at the people, at everything. He took her to the library, and very nearly lost her. He found her in the classic literature, pulling down all the Tolkien books she could get her hands on. He had known since he met her she was bright. Phil liked to imagine if he had a daughter, she'd be like Darcy. He chuckled to himself. No. Darcy _was_ his daughter. Not literally of course, but that didn't matter. She'd swiftly become his entire world.

The music was back again, and Phil blinked. He loved this song. Darcy always played it for him. He blinked again, the light was too bright, but Darcy's voice was clearer now, and so was the music. It was very near him. He turned his head slowly, seeing a heart monitor. That would explain that constant beeping he'd been hearing for so long. Just a little ways from where he was laying down, she was sitting. Swaying along with her cello, singing:

_So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin_

_You're waiting for someone to perform with_

_And don't you know it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do_

_The movement you need is on your shoulder_

_Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na yeah_

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad! Take a sad song, _

_and make it better, remember to let her under your skin, _

_Then you'll begin to make it better, oh_

_Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, Hey Jude_

_Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na Hey Jude_

_Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na –_

"Hey…Jude…"

The cello squawked in amazement as she dropped her bow, eyes wide as she stared at the bed. Phil's eyes were open; he was looking at her, smiling.

"I thought I heard someone playing." The cello was forgotten, laid on the couch as she flew to the bed, hugging him.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear me?" she choked out through her tears.

"Yes ma'am," he smiled against her hair, kissing her head.

"Do you want me to call the others, or the nurse for more meds or- oh geeze, am I hurting you-" she babbled, and Coulson's smile reached his eyes as he looked at her. He had missed her.

"No, not until you have clearance, no I don't need medicine, no you aren't hurting me," he answered all her questions. He looked around the room, seeing her things spread across the couch. "How long have I been out?"

"Three weeks I guess, going on four now," she said.

"What happened, with Loki? Is he dead?"

"No," Darcy proceeded to fill him in, how the Avengers went to New York City, fought off the Chitauri and Loki was brought to Asgard to face justice. "You can read my dossier, I typed it up while I was here," she said.

"I will later," he was tired, clearly, but he wouldn't go back to sleep, not until the doctor came and spoke with him. He put on his best Son of Coul face until the doctor left and then he leaned back, shutting his eyes.

"You need to stop that while you're here," Darcy said. "You can't be secret agent man here, not while you're like this,"

"Are you trying to tell your boss how to act?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"No," she smiled a little bit. "I'm telling my father-figure to quit acting all tough before he bursts his stitches." He didn't speak for a moment, letting her words sink in. Neither of them ever pushed the subject. They had always been family. She was 'his girl' and he'd always, always been Phil. She never felt the need to call him dad. It didn't sound right. "Look you," she began, and her voice wavered. She looked up at the ceiling, then back down at his hand, focusing through blurry eyes at the hospital bracelet he wore. "you once saved me, when no one else would or could, let me help you this time."

"I think about that day sometimes," he looked up at her, his eyes crinkling a little as he studied her. "How small you were, and how…when I hugged you, you didn't know what to do at first," he squeezed her hand. "I was scared, Darcy, up until you hugged me back, I was scared you would run away. I didn't want to lose you."

"I didn't want to lose you either, then or now," she said with a wave her hands. "So you better do what I say, and listen to the doctors. No tough guy 'I'm-a-level-seven-clearance-super-secret-agent-ma n' until I say so!"

"How do you know about level seven?" he asked, frowning.

"You don't think Fury would send up a miserly little old level two to take care of his best agent would you?" Coulson shook his head, looking up at the ceiling.

"I should've known," he chuckled. "How long are you here for?"

"Till you get better or thereabouts at any rate. So far, everything is super hush-hush."

"Understandable." He nodded. She took the edge of his bed and with great care, tucked his arm over her shoulders, resting her head against him. She looked up at him, smiling.

"I'm gonna take care of you now," she said, and suddenly she remembered being eight years old, sitting in the back of Phil's car. She was sitting on Clint's lap, and Phil was looking at her in the rearview mirror.

Darcy turned her head so she could see him, and he smiled down at her.

"Is that ok?" she asked. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"That's perfect."


End file.
